Dan Q: A Hunter
by DZAuthor AKA DZMom
Summary: Daniel X as Don Quixote, set in Tokyo, many manga references. Premise: Is Daniel X an alien hunter or a madman? Is his problem caused by reading manga or his nemesis, The Prayer? Story based on the Daniel X: Alien Hunter graphic novel 2008 . Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

**_What others said in reviews ..._**

_"confusing and [awesomely] cool at the same time"_ alexadria345, 2010-11-08

**

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**This is a spoof based on _Don Quixote_ using the _Daniel X: Alien Hunter_ graphic novel storyline.

**December 1, 2010**_  
Manga _story lines occur in this fic - it's a multiple-crossover. I have edited this chapter by naming the _manga _titles I reference in brackets [like this]. *I made some minor corrections, too.*

**Thanks for reading this!** The corresponding chapter of the public domain _Don Quixote_ translation that I'm using is at {_www. online-literature. com/ cervantes/ don_quixote/ 5/_} (cut and paste inside the {funky brackets}, and remove the spaces to get the correct web address).

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**Tale of the Boy Living in Tokyo**  
Chapter 1

The kid made his home on the streets of Tokyo or on barren hills outside the city. With the least effort he could make a mansion out of molehill. He willingly ate grubs and crickets but his epicurean fancies included fantastic sushi feasts chopped and stacked all by his lonesome.

He was rather self-sufficient as any fourteen-year-old would be. He preferred to be known as none other than Daniel X, but it should be known that Dan Q is rather more fitting for him. His last name was Hopper, but that is of no consequence.

He had no need for possessions, but he preferred to conjure up _manga_ to read whenever the thought struck him. Often he debated with himself whether _Naruto_ was a better warrior as a ninja than Ichigo Kurosaki as a Soul Reaper [of _Bleach_]. But whenever he had a mulish streak he shouted aloud that Monkey D. Luffy [in _One Piece_] _pwned_ all rivals.

Having read all the _manga_ in Tokyo proper, he eventually believed that he was himself a great warrior. He was convinced that an enemy could be found around every corner. So detached from reality was he that he denied his humanity and believed himself to be an extra-terrestrial. Having lost his parents in a traumatic double-homicide, he imagined his one lasting legacy passed on as his inheritance was a supernatural list of every enemy in the known universe.

He scared up a 4-stroke steed as a Ducati Streetfighter S. He named his ride Roc, a raw 155 horsepower mount which may not have been manufactured at the time of this story, but that is no limit to Dan's magnificent abilities. Donning a Chunichi Dragons ball cap for a helmet and assuring that his brain was in head (for it was the only weapon he needed), he prepared to fight his good fight.

He hoped Dana would be impressed.

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**If you can help me replace the phrase "scared up" (which means to prepare) with a cowboy term like 'rounded up' or 'wrangled up,' please PM or review. I've searched an online thesaurus for a phrase at the tip of my tongue to avail.**


	2. Chapter 2

**_What others said in reviews of this chapter ..._**

Nothing. No one. At no time.

**

* * *

December 1, 2010**  
I edited this chapter by adding references in brackets [like this]. *I made minor corrections, too.*

**Thanks for reading this!** The corresponding chapter of the public domain _Don Quixote_ translation that I'm using is at {_www. online-literature. com/ cervantes/ don_quixote/ 6/_} (cut and paste inside the {funky brackets}, and remove the spaces to get the correct web address).

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**Dan's First Excursion**  
Chapter 2

In the cool air just after dusk, Dan zipped along on his Ducati toward Center Gai. Glowing streets signs provided Dan a beacon toward the street that registers the pulse of Tokyo fashion and youth.

As he neared a corner, he was dwarfed by a two-story television ahead. A commercial persuaded the viewing audience that their product would ensure the honor of the ancestors and the undying respect of a wife and child. Dan paused on that corner. He wavered and wondered what he was really doing out here, alone, without a family or a home.

Dan wondered if he was the real thing. Maybe he wasn't ready to fight for justice and right wrongs. What qualified him as a hunter of the mortal enemies of all mankind?

He shook the thought from his head, certain that he would be vindicated sooner or later. He also thought he ought to somehow dress himself as a novice, but figured that he'd sort that out when the time came.

He stopped pedaling his bike and patted his illusion of Roc, muttering, "This would make a sick graphic novel. Me, on Roc, heading out to meet my foes for the first time. They'd write, like, '_SFX_: _Pant, pant._' And then they'd be all, 'He has his goals.' And then they'd show me thinking about Dana and I'd murmur, 'What a lovely face she has!'"

Dan prowled the Center Gai, seeking his mortal enemies. He wound his way through the rivulets of trendsetters and foreigners streaming in and out of nightclubs. It became late in the evening and he retreated through back alleys until he came across a hole in the wall image club.

Two maids dressed in goth array were milling around at a door hidden in the shadows. He rolled over to them and looked them up and down. He fancied they were as cute as his Dana, and so he decided they were the good guys. "You look lovely tonight." He swung one leg off the bike and nearly toppled over. The girls covered their mouths with small black nail-polished fingers and tittered to each other. Dan recovered his balance and said, "My bike is rather large, you know." The girls glanced and each other and giggled. He looked each of them roundly in the eyes and expounded, "…!"

At that moment a Shibuya Center-Gai Patrol [SCGP] whistle was blown. Dan turned his head toward the mouth of the alley and squinted his eyes. Five youth at the street corner pried themselves from the shadows and wandered out onto Center Gai. The men in the SCGP jackets continued on their way.

Dan pulled his bike closer to the working girls. "The rest of Tokyo might need a safety patrol, but I can protect you even better." The girls exchanged glances but held back their laughter.

The door swung open to reveal a rotund man who looked Dan over and then glanced at the maids. In a voice roughened by tobacco smoke he barked, "The only room open is the maid cafe."

"Thank you, _Senpai_," Dan said, with a bow. "I'm but a humble hunter. I need no rest from the plunder."

"Tch. So now I have a rhyming sideshow to entertain the men playing Go [a board game]_." _The shopkeeper turned back inside but said over his shoulder as he went, "The bike will be gone if you leave it outside. Take it to the back entrance."

Dan wheeled his bike behind the store and leaned it against the back wall. A door was propped open with a bottle so he wandered in through a costume dressing room and entered a door with a "Maid Cafe" sign. He found himself behind a cafe counter and turned round about three times, looking for a way to reach the tables on the other side. The two goth girls who had been outside hurried to the counter and lifted the counter-top open. "Welcome home, master!" they chorused. One girl took his arm and led Dan over to a small, square table with a tiny white table cloth. He sank into a black wooden chair. As he sat down another girl hurried around the counter and brought him a plate of crisply burnt grilled dried fish and bowed.

As one girl poured him rice wine and held it to his lips to sip, the other maid alternately fed him bites of fish, like he was a child. Dan felt the cheap sake burn into his veins and eased back in the chair, wondering when he would find a _sensei_.


	3. Chapter 3

**_What others said in reviews ..._**

_"That was /awesome/. Especially considering I had to read quite a bit of _Don Quixote_ (in the original Spanish) recently, so this was like... stress relief. In Tokyo. Yeah." _nathan-p, 2010-05-13

**

* * *

December 1, 2010**  
I edited this chapter by explaining _manga _titles in brackets [like this]. *I made minor corrections, too.*

**Thanks for reading this!** The corresponding chapter of the public domain _Don Quixote_ translation that I'm using is at {_www. online-literature. com/ cervantes/ don_quixote/ 7/_} (cut and paste inside the {funky brackets}, and remove the spaces to get the correct web address).

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**Dan Got Commissioned**  
Chapter 3

Dan stirred himself out of repose and stood abruptly. "Where's _Senpai_?" The maid holding the tiny rice wine cup bowed low from the waist and backed out of the room.

The other girl's face whitened and she bowed low also. Dan failed to regard her and left her in her humility while he paced the otherwise empty café.

In little time, the man with the round stomach walked swiftly into the café. The goth maid pitter-pattered at his heels, her head down. The moment Dan saw the manager, he fell to his knees and bowed his head to the floor, hands in front of him. "_Senpai_, I beg you, commission me!" Having finished his plea, he looked up and employed full use of puppy eyes.

The manager looked to the cosplay girls. "You failed to please him?"

The girl who had been waiting in bowed form slowly straightened and said, "He was happy until just now."

The manager looked back to Dan. Dan lowered his eyes and spoke again. "_Senpai,_ if you commission me, I will defend you against alien scum."

Having reached his discomfort level, the manager grunted, "Get up! How can I talk to you while your face is stuck to the floor?" The girls melted into the shadows of the room as Dan stood up. The rice wine, which was a new experience for Dan, caused the room to tilt a bit to the left.

Round Man spoke in low tones, "All that goes on here is legal. No trouble with foreigners, either. I registered with the CGSP. Here's my list to prove it."

Dan watched Round Man open his brown leather wallet and pull out a white paper. He unfolded the official stationary colored with names of establishments, signatures and red stamped seals. Dan stared at the paper in awe as he recalled the List he inherited when his parents died.

"I have the List, too!"

Round Man shrunk back slightly as Dan pulled out his cell phone. Dan grinned at the manager, then stared into the cell phone. His face glowed from the electronic light, then he grinned again at the manager. "I have the List. The List!"

The manager folded his paper with particular speed and stuffed it into his wallet. With a soft voice and wide eyes, Round Man put a fatherly arm around Dan and ushered him to the largest table. "Young _Kohai_, why didn't you say so?" As soon as Dan sat down Round Man turned and hollered, "Wench, bring the wine!" The two maids nearly jumped in place before they scurried behind the counter.

Dan sat at attention. Round Man leaned forward and purred, "To whom may I thank for sending you my way?"

Dan put his cell phone in his pocket and cocked his head to one side. "To whom … what?"

Round Man stretched his back and hissed, "Who sent you?"

Dan was distracted by one of the maids carrying a platter balancing a heated tea pot of rice wine and two tiny cups. It was her manner of walking on her knees instead of her feet that made him stare. The breasts practically spilling out of her maid outfit also caught his eye.

Then Dan looked up and saw the creased forehead and bushy black eyebrows of Round Man an inch from his face. Dan got the joke just at that moment. He sighed in relief and felt his shoulders ease from tension he hadn't realized existed a moment before. "You did, _Senpai_! I asked you to commission me Alien Hunter."

Round Man slowly leaned back, his eyes nearly slits. Then he burst out in laughter. "I wish I was young like you, _Kohai_." He gestured for Dan to drink the rice wine. "It was _Mushishi_ for me, back in the day."

Dan choked on the warm, sweet wine. "A _mushi _master!" His eyes worshiped Round Man.

The rotund fellow drained his cup and eyed Dan for a moment before chuckling, "It's the iron wok for me now [play on the title _Iron Wok Jan]._" Then he barked to the maid at the counter, "We will play _hashiken_!" The other maid appeared with six chopsticks.

Round Man snatched the chopsticks and handed three to Dan. He sneered at the maid waiting at the table, still on her knees. "Leave us!" She crouched onto her feet and hurried off, still hunched over.

"Rock! Paper! Scissors!" Round Man chortled. Dan shot out his straight hand. Round Man slowly produced a side-ways scissor hand. "You go first, then. Hide the chopsticks behind your back, like this. Then choose up to three chopsticks and bring them out."

"Okay."

"But hide them from me. Behind your arm!"

Dan looked up to see if he had succeeded.

Round Man cheered, "Very good! Now do it again, the proper way. Good. Now its my turn. If I can guess the number of your chopsticks and add mine to make exactly three, I win."

Dan nodded.

"I have to say either 'One!' or 'Five!' Now this part's a bit tricky. Are you paying attention?"

"Yes."

"I don't really have to explain 'One,' although I have to say it even if I choose no chopsticks at all. But for the two or three chopsticks, that's when I say, 'Five.' If our chopsticks together equal one or if we have five chopsticks, you win."

The numbers swirled in Dan's head. It was interrupted by Round Man's voice: "Now you say, 'Come on!'"

Dan looked at Round Man for a moment and then blurted out, "Come on!" In his excitement he lifted his arm and revealed the three chopsticks he was hiding.

Round Man said, "Five." He brought out two chopsticks. "Who won?"

Dan showed his three chopsticks and looked again at Round Man's two. "Did I?"

"Indeed! Well done. And now I drink up. Fill it to the brim, _Kohai_!"

Dan refilled Round Man's cup and watched him go bottoms up.

"And now we do it again. So I hide the chopsticks, pick a number, and now, I say, 'Come on.'" Round Man hid his hand behind his arm.

Dan put his chopsticks behind his back and considered his move. "Five." He brought out two chopsticks. Round Man had no chopsticks and said, "No winner this time, eh? Bring it on, _Kohai_. A samurai commander [referring to _Samurai Commando: Mission 1549_] can take it."

Dan proceeded with the drinking game, hiding his chopsticks. "Come on!" This time Dan ended up drinking, and the next time, and the following time as well. He wasn't paying attention because he was mesmerized by Round Man's tales of his personal love complex [a play on the Mature Adult _manga _entitled _Love Complex_], his search for Gold Roger's _One Piece_, his prized _Golden Balls _[_Gintama_], his switch to Dragon Speed as drug of choice [word play referring to the _manga _title _Switch_], his experience of _Cherry Juice_ , his foray into _Tekkon Kinkurito_, as well as a fetish for groping female breasts which he aptly demonstrated on one of the maids. That made Dan giggle incessantly giving him cause to cover the bulge pushing up in his pants. His hand thus occupied made it impossible to hide his chopsticks and play the drinking game properly.

After winning several rounds of _hashiken_, Round Man concluded, "And now you have found me at this fine establishment,_ Kohai_."

The final cup of rice wine went down Dan's throat like water.

Round Man's congenial voice turned acerbic, "Now why are you here?"

"For you to cosimmon … momission, comishmen …" Dan shook his head, which caused the room to dance the minuet. "To be Alien Hunter," he finally blubbered.

"Did you bring any money, _Kohai_?"

"Money? I just need to imagine it. How much would you like me to imagine?"

Round Man cursed quietly. "No, no, no. You must carry real money, _Kohai_. Don't always wait until you need it to 'imagine' it."

"Oh. Okay. I can do that, I guess."

"Good." Round Man stood. He sniggered, "I suppose I'll have to observe your abilities before I commission you. That would be prudent, wouldn't it?"

Dan stood and swayed. The two maids rushed to him.

"Have a go at it in the alley, _Kohai_. Let's see what you can do."

Dan's arms were over each of the maid's shoulders. He tried to make his hand grope the breasts of the maid on his left, but he only grabbed clouds of air. "Pervert," the maid whined as she pushed him outside.

The cool night air gave Dan a slightly clearer head. He had heard the maid's complaint and squinted up and down the alley to see where the offense had come from. It just so happened that a salary man was trotting through the alley. Dan saw the lecherous alien.

He blocked the villain's path and screeched, "Stopp rightt there, you per-verse." The man was stunned for a moment, and then caught a whiff of Dan's breath. He stepped aside to continue. Dan lunged for the man, making them both tumble to the ground.

"Nnno one messes wid meh girls, Bub-bah. I'm an ephelant stomping on you, arsh-hole."

Center Gai Security Patrol whistles screeched.

"That's meh trum-phet."

Round Man burst out of the club and grabbed Dan's shirt, hauling him up just as the CGSP arrived. "It's my nephew's birthday," he explained apologetically. "I shouldn't have let him drink. But I thought it would be harmless," he babbled.

The CGSP helped the salary man to his feet. "Forget it," the disheveled salary man mumbled, brushing his suit. "I don't have time for this."

The CGSP leader cautioned Round Man, "Better take care of your nephew. He's looking a bit gray in the face."

"Thatt cuz I'm a el-phe-lant!" Dan mumbled in triumph.

Round Man shook his head. "My mistake. It won't happen again."

The CGSP were done there and wandered further into the alley.

Round Man pulled Dan into the doorway of the club. "You want to be commissioned?" he growled. "You got it. Look, I'd make you bow down, but then you'd lay here all night. So just lean against the wall. I'll make this short and sweet."

"Swort and sheet. I like that," Dan drooled.

"Bring his bike!" he ordered one of the maids. "And you, hold him up!"

The goth maid grabbed him under his left arm. This permitted Dan's right hand free to caress her soft skin below her neck. "Whatt s'your name?"

"Tohru [a character named Tohru Honda in _Fruits Basket_]," she said acidly.

"Tohru-chan …"

"Now, look at me!" Round Man barked.

Dan forgot his attentions and drifted his gaze to Round Man. "I commission you … Alien Hunter! By order of …"

"Dana," Dan whispered.

"By order of Dana!" Round Man tossed a cup of cold water into Dan's face.

Drips of water ran down his bangs and over his nose as Dan slobbered, "Thank you, _Senpai_!" He leaned forward to hug Round Man.

Just then the maid with the bike intervened and Dan embraced the handle bars.

"Roc!" Dan said, tears forming in his eyes. He looked at the maid. "You'rre lovve-lee. Whatt s'your …"

The other maid said tersely, "Her name is Momo [the character Momo Sohma, _Fruits Basket_]."

"Momo-chan, I'll proteck you forr-evah."

"Get out of here!" Round Man blustered.

Dan slowly lifted his leg, attempting to straddle his bike. When he failed, Round Man grabbed the handlebars while the two maids walked him down the alley, away from Center Gai. They paused while Dan vomited his losses and then they gingerly led him further away from the club. They left Dan hovered over a water runoff drain. With a gentler voice, Round Man cajoled, "Go out there and kick some ass, Alien Hunter."

Dan was left with his bicycle toppled next to him and bile on his tongue. He slurred, "I did it, Dana," just before he closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**_What others said in reviews of this chapter ..._**

Nothing. No one. At no time.

* * *

**December 1, 2010**  
*Minor corrections made.*

**Thanks for reading this!** The corresponding chapter of the public domain _Don Quixote_ translation that I'm using is at {_www. online-literature. com/ cervantes/ don_quixote/ 8/_} (cut and paste inside the {funky brackets}, and remove the spaces to get the correct web address).

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**What Happened Next**  
Chapter 4

The sky was the color of a robin's egg. Dan rubbed the corners of his eyes. A herd of puffy, white clouds grazed, frolicking above the skyscrapers. The idyllic scene was marred by sewer stench.

Dan opened his mouth to yawn but his throat was too dry to produce a sound. Instead, he heard a distant truck honking its horn and the quiet hum of car tires careening over highways.

He sat up, but not slowly enough to prevent his frontal lobe from being crushed by a vice grip. In that single moment he realized the virtues of sobriety. It took him more than a minute or two to stand up, upright Rok and get himself onto the seat. Pedals spinning lazily, he headed out of Shibuya. Salary men began bustling down the streets, and middle-aged women in high heels marked the tempo of the city's industrious work ethic march.

Dan passed apartment buildings where breakfast was being eaten in tiny rooms. His stomach grumbled but the thought of digesting food caused him to gag.

After some time he turned onto a quiet street that seemed to be winking out for a nap even though the day was just beginning. The paved road seemed to grow increasingly dusty as he rode down it. As he continued, Dan got the impression that the street wasn't paved anymore.

Alien senses permitted Dan what could best be described as HD experience. What mere humans failed to notice, he was helpless to ignore. So it was not particularly disturbing to him that he was following a trail marked by molecules that were invisible to even his extraordinary eyes. It was a seventh sense that led him. His bike roared to a stop as he reached a short flight of stairs leading into a dark tunnel.

Dan noticed the teenage boy down the flight of stairs first. The boy stood perfectly still in the shadows. Dan idled at the tops of the stairs. The longer he looked, the clearer the boy's figure became. The boy was shirtless, just wearing torn up jeans. Then Dan saw something, what seemed to be a fist, slam into the boy's shoulder. It was remarkable that the boy didn't lose his balance, let alone flinch.

"Hey!" Dan shouted, hopping off his bike. His stomach lurched, but he took a deep breath and descended into the shadows. Dan's eyes played tricks on him as he first thought it was an alien facing the boy. But by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, he understood this was a grown man, a human, facing off against the boy.

"So much for alien hunting," Dan muttered. The grown man's body shuddered at Dan's remark, which gave Dan a great deal of confidence that alien hunting was indeed a glorious endeavor that no mortal human would aspire to do.

"Everything alright here?" Dan asked. "It looked like this kid was getting beaten up."

"I can't find any damn worthy research assistants. This one's just as much of a screw-up as the last few." The grown man tossed his arms up in a show of frustration and then scratched his balding head in thought.

"More like a slave than an assistant," the boy protested.

"You ungrateful pest! If you would simply do as you're told you would have no reason to complain."

"Right, all work and no food a research assistant makes!"

Dan cleared his throat. "What kind of research?"

"Insect science," the boy said, folding his arms across his bare chest. The muscles in his arms were defined. Well defined. It disturbed Dan to notice this so keenly. As he also noticed tendrils of hair that had sprouted below the boys chest and formed a path leading down, around his belly button, under the brass button of the jeans …

"Myrmecology," the grown man grunted.

"Ants."

"You study ants," Dan repeated. "Well, you could eat the ants."

The boy looked at Dan and laughed. "That's … I would become ant food if I tried that."

"I didn't know ants had a taste for guys like you."

The man laughed cruelly. "I'm sure he would make a delicious meal."

Dan began to feel fear. "Just treat him nicely and then you won't have to worry about it."

"You have given me sage advice, young … what did you call it? Alien hunter?" The man began to groom the other boy's disheveled hair. Dan relaxed. He was a _bona fide _alien hunter. And these were just some university folks working out a petty human resources dispute.

"Don't leave me alone with him," the boy pleaded to Dan. "You don't know what he's capable of doing to me!"

"Everything will work out fine, kid. This guy is reasonable."

"Damn right," the man smiled.

Dan leaned over to the man and spoke softly. "How about having the kid over for lunch and letting bygones be bygones?"

"Splendid idea! It's the best thing anyone's suggested all week!" he boomed.

The boy looked at Dan in alarm. As Dan turned to the stairs he glanced back. "All will be fine. You'll see." He trotted up the steps.

"Come along, Ace. It's a new day!" the man said with glee.

Dan squinted in the bright sun. He meandered along the street, walking with his bike. Eventually he wandered into Yoyogi Park. He drifted toward a group of guys practicing with nun-chucks.

He was inspired by their agility and it bolstered his courage.

He parked Rok under a tree and stood watching the nun-chucks spin round and round. When the nun-chucks were finally still, Dan stepped toward the group. "I just want you to know that Dana-chan is off limits."

The guys turned to look at Dan. "Dana-chan? What the hell?"

Dan sniffed. "Don't use a tone of voice like that when talking about Dana-chan. A little respect!"

"Look kid. You want to play make believe about your girlfriend? Fine. Just don't butt into other people's business and expect us to play nice."

Dan stomped one foot on the ground and clenched his fists. He let out a whiny roar and insisted, "Dana-chan is real. You can't say she isn't real just because she's not here right now. But just in case she does show up, she's with me. Got it?"

One fellow with nun-chucks hanging out his back pocket crossed the lawn to Dan. "The little boy has a little girlfriend, huh? Little boy's afraid she'll like the big boys' sticks, is that it? Bring her on by and I'll do more than show her my stick."

Dan's nostrils flared. A rage overcame him. He rushed toward the offender, arms straight, pushing him back a few steps. What Dan hadn't thought through was that this man was obviously skilled in martial arts. Before he knew it, a heavy hand had cuffed his ears and a foot had kicked his gut.

Dan bent over but the man pulled Dan's shirt and was shouting into his face. "See these nun-chucks in my hand? These are real, unlike your Dana-chan. And these will hurt. I can prove it if you want."

A girl called over, "Leave him alone. He's just a kid."

Dan looked to see if it was Dana. It wasn't. Dana didn't use nun-chucks.

"I don't want even a peep out of you, kid. Get lost." Dan stumbled forward when the guy left go of his shirt. Then everything went into slow motion when he felt excruciating pain in his testicles and saw the man's foot retreat to the ground and he walked away. Dan fell, huddling into a ball, rolling back and forth in the grass, willing the pain to stop.

His willpower wasn't strong enough. But he gritted his teeth and bore it. What else would an alien hunter do?


	5. Chapter 5

**December 1, 2010**  
Here's a fun chapter. I've been reading English scanlations of _Naruto_ and _Bleach _since I discovered how many manga references I'd need to use in this fan fiction. To make it easier for readers, I'm starting to use brackets [like this] to name the _manga _titles I reference.

*Minor corrections made.*

**Thanks for reading this!** The corresponding chapter of the public domain _Don Quixote_ translation that I'm using is at {_www. online-literature. com/ cervantes/ don_quixote/ 9/_} (cut and paste inside the {funky brackets}, and remove the spaces to get the correct web address).

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**Dan's Mishap Continues**  
Chapter 5**  
**

As Dan writhed in pain, he rolled into a puddle of rainwater.

"The swamp of the underworld," Dan muttered, recalling the Gallant Jiraiya and Uzamaki Naruto, when the six paths of Pein left the hermit sage dying [in the manga _Naruto_]. This was a story known to manga lovers the world over, as fantastic a story as the exploits of Genji Monogatari [in _Gekka no Kimi_].

Feeling like he was suffering the fate of Jiraiya, he pondered the third person perspective of the manga and expressed the words that Jiraiya would have uttered, had he known.

Reading your book in the village,  
- - My reflection appears!  
What stirs in your heart, my lady?  
- - Does this confirm your fears?

He continued making up his own ballad and was blathering away until he declared:

Tale of Gallant Jiraiya …  
- - Destined child Naruto!  
-

Now it just so happened that another homeless punk was ambling through the grassy park just as Dan uttered those words. This kid was a homeless tent city vagrant, like Dan. He was returning from a morning shift as a dishwasher at an internet café, which didn't pay enough to rent an apartment anywhere near Tokyo. He knelt down in the wet grass and tried to figure out what was wrong with the boy rolling around. "What happened to you?"

Dan opened his eyes. "Naruto? You look … different."

The guy got the "you look different" treatment frequently in the land of the rising sun, being of African origin and other mixed ethnicities.

Dan assumed that this was indeed Naruto, so he continued with Jiraiya's never-before-spoken final words as Naruto's teacher. Dan spoke of the love that the Hokage and Naruto's mother had. He spoke of the friendship of the Hokage to him, and the kind words spoken about his novel. And he admitted he never truly saw Naruto as the destined child. Not until death!

The punk had been rendered immobile by Dan's weird babbling. But lunacy was common among tent dwellers, so he tipped back Dan's baseball cap so that he could look more closely at the guy on the ground. He used a rag pilfered from the café to wipe the mud and grass from Dan's face. And what do you know? A familiar face after all! "DX?"

Apparently Dan had thought that 'Daniel X' as a name wasn't cool enough, so he had persuaded all the tent city dwellers to call him 'DX'

"Did someone rough you up, dude?"

Dan kept going with the charade. So the kid ignored the incoherent gibberish and made sure that Dan was okay … no broken bones, at least. No bruises on his head or anywhere else, as far as he could tell without violating Dan's decency. And there wasn't any blood. No broken nose, to be sure.

Looking around, he grabbed Dan's cap, to make sure it didn't get left behind, and then he hoisted Dan to carry him piggy-back. It was easy to get Dan mounted on his backside. It sure was easier than carrying Dan bridal-style! The punk double-checked to make sure Dan hadn't lost anything on the ground. He would have even picked up Dan's pocket lint if there were any. Finally, with Dan hugging his chest, he righted the bicycle and walked it along the path.

It was a sorry scene with Dan going on and on with his ridiculous ranting. At times, Dan seemed lifeless, barely clinging to the poor guy, sliding further along, practically riding his butt at times.

Sometimes Dan sighed in dramatic despair. So the punk would ask again, "What the devil happened to you, man?"

And the devil was in the details, most certainly. For Dan forgot all about Jaraiya, and now imagined that he was Sen when Swordfish, the sly prison boss with a 200-year prison sentence, rescued him after Lain's torturous treatment [in the Mature Adult _manga Under Grand Hotel_ (aka, Under Ground Hotel or UGH)].

Of course this innocent kid knew nothing of Dan's state of mind. So when he asked the innocuous question, "How are you feeling?" Dan responded just as if he were in Under "Grand" Hotel. "Don't touch me, Sword! I thought you were straight. And married. With a kid."

"What the _eff_?" the kid grumbled. "You read _yaoi_? You're a loony toon, you know that?" So he picked up the pace and trotted next to the bike, with Dan hugging his back, to reach the tent city on the other side of the park.

"Sword," Dan said with passion, "I need to tell you my secret. You see, the woman I love, she really is Dana. I would do anything for her, Sword. I am intrepid and audacious in the fantastic deeds that I have done, and in the phenomenal acts I do now, and even in the astounding feats I will accomplish in the future!"

"Dude!" the punk said in exasperation. "DX," he said more kindly, "I can't say I've never been the 'Q' in GBLTQ, but can't you see that I'm not a homophobic bi … I'm not Swordfish! It's me ... Willy. The tent city, dude! And you're definitely not Jaraiya and I doubt you'd even make a good cosplay Sen. You're Daniel X, Friend. Wake up and smell the asphalt in the afternoon heat."

Dan hugged Willy's chest more tightly, cinched himself up higher on his back, sniffed his nostrils indignantly, and said. "I know who I am."

Willy looked behind him to glimpse the "long time ago in a galaxy far, far away [_Star Wars IV: A New Hope_]" look on Dan's face. Dan continued his proclamation. "I could be anyone I've mentioned. I could be the twelve members of the Akatsuki [in _Naruto_]. I may even be the _Seven Samurai _[1945 Akira Kurusawa film]. Everything I've accomplished on Terra Firma demonstrates that my strength is even greater than each and every one of them."

Feeling sorry for Dan, Willy waited until the daylight began to fade before bringing him into the tent city while he was having such a ridiculous rant. So, walking the last stretch of sidewalk, Willy carried him to section of the tent city where he'd seen Dan overnight on occasion.

A man named Graff and a woman named Altrelda were shuffling around the tents, wringing their hands, and generally looking distraught by the time Willy brought Dan back.

"Where could that kid be?" Graff bemoaned, scratching the blonde white of his receding hairline.

"Three days is such a long time a for Daniel to be gone," Altrelda sighed, straightening her auburn hair into a ponytail holder. She leaned against the man, resting her forehead on his shoulders and sighed. "And he took his bike and cap, too," she said, wiping a tear from her face. Graff nodded, patting her shoulder. "You don't think? … Oh, no, it couldn't be!"

The man touched Altrelda's arm and said, "Anything's possible. Tell me."

She straightened up and drew her long bangs off her face. "Well, he's been reading so many _manga _recently. It's really gotten out of hand, to tell you the truth. Why, he even said the other morning that he was going to go all _shonen _and find his own action adventures. Cursed be that Ryuk and Light Yagami [of_ Death Note_] with those magazines that have ruined the sanest mind in Tokyo!"

A girl shuffled up, twisting her shirt around her fingers. "_Oba-sama_," she addressed the woman, "sometimes DX went to the internet cafes and read for two whole days and nights. And then he sometimes would throw a book against the wall and stand on the table and jump around. Then he'd get all breathless-like, and he'd tell me that he killed four aliens that were pretending to be skyscrapers. And if he was dripping in sweat, he'd say, 'Don't mind the blood, I'll live.' Then I'd give him some water to drink and he'd calm down but he'd pretend that he was drinking an elixer from his home planet, Alpak Nok." She shook her double ponytails on each side of her head, looked at the hole above the big toe of her left shoe and sniffled.

"Oh, Brenda," Altrelda comforted her, hugging her close.

"It's all my fault," Brenda sobbed into the woman's stomach, clutching her legs. "I should have told you how freakish DX was getting. Then this never would have happened! And we could have ripped up all the magazines and stayed warm, burning them in a trash can!"

Graff came to the girl and lifted her in his arms so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. He comforted her, "Now, now. We'll deal with the _manga _trash first thing in the morning. And by nightfall we'll have ourselves a toasty fire and then we will give a warning to every boy and girl in Tokyo of the dangers of reading these tomes."

Willy had watched the spectacle and he realized what was going down with Dan. "Hey!" he shouted. "This is Jiraiya, breathing his dying breaths, and Naruto Uzamaki. And this is also Sen Owari and Swordfish of Under Ground Hotel, ready to take good care of Sen in prison."

Graff lowered Brenda and glanced at Altrelda before swiftly walking over to Willy. The woman took Brenda by the hand and hurried after the man.

"Wait!" Dan said, lifting his head off Willy's back. "My bike threw me off, and I must retire to a tent with the List and _Young Magician_ [_Shounen Mahoushi_] to lift my spirits. It's my only hope."

Altreda huffed, hands on hips. "See what I mean? I told you so. And as for you, Daniel, into the tent you go. But no _manga _for you, young man. To think those drawings have corrupted your mind so! And forget whatever list you're mumbling about."

Willy carried Dan into the tent that Graff pointed out and deposited him on a piece of cardboard. Using the light from Daniel's cell phone, Graph and Willy checked Dan to see if he really was hurt but didn't find anything serious at all. Dan sat up and with dramatic flair regaled them of his adventure when he wiped out on his bicycle Roc while battling ten giants the size of Mount Fuji.

"Is that so?" chuckled Graff. "We'll have Yu Kanda [of _D. Gray Man_] come and take care of 'em, how 'bout that?" he snickered.

Dan smiled in contented agreement. Willy shot him a look that said, _That was stupid. Can you say, 'Enabler?'_

Graff sighed and urged Dan, "Come on, kid. Tell us what really happened. What did you do for the last three days? Can't you remember anything?"

To each question Dan waved him off. "If you want to help me, then give me some food. I'm starving. And then let me sleep. Sheesh!"

Graff dug through a bag and found a convenience store meal of _inari_, half an egg and a rice ball, which Dan gratefully accepted. Then Graff left the tent with Willy. "I've seen you around before, haven't I?" Graff asked, inviting Willy to hunker down next to the tent on a stool.

"Yeah, I got a tent in another corner of the park." Willy pointed it out.

"So, how'd you find him?"

Willy shrugged. "He was lying in the grass in the middle of the park."

"When?"

Willy looked at his watch, which he realized he had pawned off, and looked out into the park. "Some time this afternoon. He was talking crazy. I kinda wanted to lay low before bringing him back here."

"Was he saying all that weird shi… I mean, stuff?" Graff asked.

"Yeah. He was telling me I was Jiraiya … Naruto's teacher, ya know. And then he went all UGH on me."

Graff kindly looked away when Willy blushed. "Can you believe him talking trash to me, like I'm some prison boss that will save his sorry ass…assets?"

"Sadly, I can imagine it," Graff said. "Don't take it personally, kid."

"Yeah, you're right," Willy mumbled. Then he stood up. "I guess I'll be heading over to my own cardboard palace."

Graff stood and shook Willy's hand. "Thanks for bringing him back."

"Later." Willy started to bow and then realized that neither of them were Japanese, so the formality was a bit unnecessary. He walked off, patting the back pocket of his jeans, finding it empty, and wishing he had a pack of smokes.

Graff checked on Altrelda and Brenda, who were already asleep in a tent nearby. Graff pulled an orange tarp over a bench and a hedge of bushes. He matted down the sheets of thick plastic and lay down, thinking about his plans to deal with Dan in the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

**December 2, 2010**  
I owe all my research to Google.

**Thanks for reading this!** The corresponding chapter of the public domain _Don Quixote_ translation that I'm using is at {_www. online-literature. com/ cervantes/ don_quixote/ 10/_} (cut and paste inside the {funky brackets}, and remove the spaces to get the correct web address).

* * *

**The Amusing yet Prudent Scrutiny of Dan's _Manga_ Collection  
Chapter 6**

Dan snored softly, a puddle of drool wetting the cardboard under his head. The morning sun had dried the dew from the grass by now.

Graff slipped through the flaps of the tent and beckoned Brenda to follow. She pointed to rows of acid-free storage boxes along the side of the tent, stacked two to three deep.

Graff nodded and began to heave the boxes just outside the tent onto a sidewalk as Brenda watched. Altrelda came over, _tsking_ away with her tongue clicking on the roof of her mouth, shaking her head. "All this trouble," she said to herself.

When Graff had carried the entire collection outside the tent, Altrelda dug in and began searching. "Let's get rid of _Young Magician_ first and be done with that sorcery!"

Graff chuckled. "One at a time. No need to hurry."

Altrelda looked up, pursing her lips. "Come now," he coaxed. "Let's start at the beginning and work our way through in an orderly manner."

Altrelda groaned, but walked to the box closest to Graff, nevertheless.

Watching her lift the lid, Graff added, "Who knows? There might be something worth saving."

"No!" Brenda stomped her foot. "There can't be anything good in all of this garbage. Each and every one of them is just as guilty for making DX crazy! Let's find a big metal barrel and pile them in so that we can be warm tonight."

Altrelda hesitated, debating whose side she was on. All the while, she resisted reaching out to pull away a bit of hair that Brenda kept chewing on in the corner of her mouth while she talked.

"Geezums! At least _look_ at the titles you're both so willing to condemn to an eternity of fire," Graff persuaded them.

Altrelda bent down and picked up the three vintage original issues of the magazine _Eshinbun Nipponchi _published by Kanagaki Robun and Kawanabe Kyosai in 1874. In their protective covers, they were still in excellent condition.

Graff took them from Altrelda's hands. "Now this is interesting. I've heard that this was the very first _manga _magazine ever published. So every other publication is a spawn of this ilk. I say we burn these miscreants to ashes."

"But Graff," Altrelda reached out her hand to stay him, "we ought to preserve history, at least. Something this unique ought to be given reprieve, don't you think?"

Graff rubbed the stubble around his chin. "You have a point, Altrelda_-san_." He handed them back to Altrelda and stretched, with a loud yawn. Meanwhile, Altrelda dumped the contents out of the box, shook the box again to remove the dust, and carefully placed the artifacts inside.

Her care was exquisite. She moved with the grace of an archeologist, preserving the remains of a doomed civilization.

Graff squat down and pointed to the pile littering the ground. "How about that one, next?"

Altrelda gathered up several more magazines, each in its own protective cover, and read the title. "_Kisho Shimbun_. Huh, 1875. How 'bout that?" For a moment Altrelda seemed to cradle it longingly in her arms, "This magazine is practically the child of _Eshinbun Nipponchi_."

Graff rolled his eyes. "Just because it was inspired by a preceding work of literature doesn't mean that it should be accepted without critique. Besides, our kind of justice dictates that sons are not to judged based on the merits of their fathers. So get rid of those noxious protectors and let's prepare for a bonfire!"

Altrelda snapped to her senses, gleefully ripping the vintage magazines out of their covers. She tossed them next to a big barrel that Brenda had rolled across the park.

"Let's get on with it," Graff sighed, tucking in his shirt.

"Ahh," Altrelda sighed, looking through the remaining magazines on the sidewalk. "These appear to be issues of _Shōnen Sekai_. No doubt from the same spring of appealing to young imaginations, and just as horrid as _manga_."

Graff stood and bent back, hands pressing against the back side of his hips. "Toss them," he groaned during his stretch. Now standing upright, his voice was normal again. "Let not Empress Jingu's iconography remain unburned. Do away with the _daimyo _Toyotomi Hideyoshi's heroic invasion and the manly-man military values espoused so readily by its publishers."

Graff rubbed his eyes. "I swear, if I even saw dear old Dad running around at a cosplay convention, I would even burn him to ashes right along with these magazines!"

"I couldn't agree more," Altrelda concurred.

"Me, too!" Brenda said, momentarily taking a break from spinning herself dizzy with helicopter arms whirling.

"Let's dump 'em," Altrelda cheerfully cheered as she scooped up the pile of magazines and flung them away.

Graff walked around the boxes. "What's in this one?" he asked the sweating Altrelda.

She lifted the lid and peered inside. "These are the six _tankōbon_ volumes of _Historie_."

Graff scratched his crotch. "That's by the guy that wrote _Parastyle_. Can you believe someone who wrote about an alien Parasite invasion would try to pull off a historical _manga_? What's this world coming to?" Graff picked his nose as he thought. "I'll tell you what. Just put that whole box over there and let some poor sap discover it."

Altrelda set it aside and opened the next box. A tinge of pink grew on her cheeks as she perused the contents. "_Love's Supreme Principle!"_ she uttered breathlessly.

"Let me see that smut." Graff grabbed it out of her hands and ogled a rape scene. "No plot at all. Even the pictures aren't good. It's not even hard core, for crying out loud." He tossed it back into the box. "Put both of the boxes out."

"I'm happy to do so," Altrelda responded, a fake smile plastered on her face. It took her a bit of time to return, and her clothes did look a bit squared and bulky when she waddled back.

Graff returned from taking a long piss, and quickly zipped up his pants.

Altrelda excused herself to the tent momentarily before returning, looking greatly relieved and somewhat skinnier. She plunged into the next set. "_Astro Boy_?"

"Well, well, well. If that isn't a classic, I don't know what is. But toss it anyway."

"Okay. This here is," she said as she inspected the contents of another box, "_Ultimate! Hentai Kamen_."

Graff pondered this set of _manga_ while chewing his fingernails. "The title is great, you have to admit. But it was published in _Weekly Shonen Jump_, so it can't be _hentai_. Let's burn it."

Altrelda hitched up her skinny pants, which sunk well below her hips. Then she walked over to another box. "Oh, it's _Tôkyô wa boku no niwa _[_Tôkyô est mon jardin_]."

"Ahhh," Graff breathed as he pulled up a stool. He gestured for Altrelda to take a break and sit as well. "I know the artist. That's the one where David Martin's daily life issues as an expat are drawn out with his Japanese girlfriend, and a lost bottle of cognac, no less. Quite like _When the Cat's Away_ [1997 Cédric Klapisch film]."

Brenda did cartwheels in the grass and hummed the Japanese folk song _Hana_ about cherry blossoms.

Graff turned his attention back to the boxes of _manga_. "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to condemn it in the afterlife. Goodness! This is one of the pieces that inspired _Nouvelle Manga_. And Benoit Peeters had a hand in writing it, as well. But I swear I'll diss any Japanese translations of his comics here. As long as he remains in French, he and I will get along just fine."

Altrelda shifted on the stool. "I have him in Italian. I don't understand a word of it, though."

"That's a good thing," Graff harrumphed. "It's fine if Tokyo is Frederic Boilet's garden. But why would Peeters' even want it brought back to Tokyo and printed in Japanese? It completely loses the authenticity of the expatriate experience! It's just like every _manga _translated into another language. No matter how many footnotes and explanations they write on the page, the humor of the original picture and caption is lost."

Altrelda covered her mouth and stifled a yawn.

Graff glanced at her. "Let's make it simple. Why don't we put any _Nouvelle Manga_ editions in a separate box and we'll stash them in one of the tunnels under the park. We'll decide what to do with them later, excepting _Yukiko no Hôrensô_ or _Mariko Parade_. If get my hands on either of those in Japanese translation I'll burn them myself."

Altrelda took this opportunity to stand up and shuffle among the boxes. She peered at Graff and then, without meaning to, placed her hand over her heart. Apparently the guilt of stealing some contraband for her own viewing pleasure was eating away at her soul.

She shook the feeling out of her head and opened a new box. "1957. _Rows of Cherry Trees_ series. I wonder how it got packed in with _The Flower Prince_."

"No need to worry your pretty head. Let the flowers be burnt into oblivion. But let's preserve those cherry trees." Graff smiled as he gazed at Brenda, frolicking in the dappled shade under a tree. "After all, the keepers of the Shinto religion thought it fit to preserve liturgies in the ancient _Kojiki_ and _Nihongi_ poems regardless of how primitive they may appear. Besides, the art in this manga is stunning. And you could call it the 'father' of _yuri_. So let's just get rid of everything except for this and the three issues of _Eshinbun Nipponchi_." Graff bent down and touched his toes, stretching. He looked up. "Good idea?"

"No, not really," Altrelda said. "Here's a _Bakuman__。_taco bell."

"What?"

"_Tankōbon_." Altrelda's face reddened a bit. "What? I get tired and think of silly word associations."

"Okay," Graff ceded. "Though a little _umeboshi_ might enrich its flavor. And the _Shonen Jump_ stuff has be be scrubbed. I guess we'll see how it fares after surgery. You can keep them in your tent. But you ought to hide them so that no one reads them. Are we clear on this?"

"Aye aye, Captain!" Altrelda trilled. She ran off to her tent with the manga.

Then she and Graff shoved the remaining boxes over to the giant metal trash barrel. When one box tipped over, Graff leaned down to pick it up. "Oh. My. God."

Altrelda looked over.

"It's _Gantz_. Pull up a stool and let's have a look-see, shall we?" He dragged Altrelda to a stool and knelt next to her. This is awesome!" he said with a high, boyish voice.

Altrelda simply stared at him. So he continued, glancing over the summary "Masaru and Kei think they die. But no! An alien - - can you believe this stuff? - - an alien brings them back to life. And then they - - get this - - they have to hunt other aliens." Graff stood up and turned away. "I'm getting hard just reading this." After a moment he turned back and squatted next to Altrelda again. "It has it all!" he said in a sing-song voice. "Violence. Death. Angst. _And_ sexual confusion. I love it. Whoever wrote this deserves a _Death Note_, for sure. But why don't you read it and see for yourself?"

"Whatever," Altrelda sighed. She took the corresponding volumes to her tent.

When she came back, Graff was looking through a collection of _hentai_ manga. "Now _these_," he said to her, "are nowhere near as dangerous as _shonen_. He was reading _Virgin Night_ and he assumed all of the collection was softcore.

Brenda skipped over. "_Oji-san_, you should just get rid of the whole kit and caboodle. Imagine what would happen if he tried acting out some of that stuff."

Graff's face whitened. Brenda nodded. "Or what if," she gasped and a tear began to form in the corner of her eye. "What if he became a _manga-ka_? They say you can't stop after the first one!"

"Right you are, munchkin," Graff agreed. "Well, I suppose we can save _Virgin Night_ if we take out everything about intimacy. And here's the second volume. The author is Yoshiki Aya. Did you know Aya was the name of a Mesopotamian goddess? Best not to damage any of this author's works and thus invoke wrath from the sun."

Graff looked up at the sky. "And speaking of the sun, time is fleeting. Let's hurry this along."

Brenda skipped over to a tent and crawled inside.

Altrelda wiped her face and looked at a set of books. "Wow. _Fortune Arterial_."

"Really?" Graff said, his voice a bit high pitched. "Cute vampires and dumb students. This is a keeper."

"Must we go on?" Altrelda complained.

"I guess not. Why don't we do away with the pretenses and just trash everything except for really good smut."

"Okay. Hey. Here's a computer print out from fanfiction dot net. Know anyone using the pen name DZMom?"

Graff shook his shoulders, laughing. "The woman can't write worth a wit. Don't get me wrong. She's a nice lady. But all she does is fan fiction. She has some original concepts, to her merit. But she's a lousy proofreader. Well, I guess we'll have to see how _Unheeded Warning: Synergy _turns out now that she's posting chapters, on occasion. Why don't you keep your hands on that printout in the meantime?"

"Sure," Altrelda nodded.

"I'm beat."

Altrelda looked over at Graff. "It's about time."

* * *

**Major research sources (all online), in no particular order:**

"Shōnen Sekai," Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia, last modified on 13 October 2010 at 20:29; {_http: / / en. wikipedia. org/ wiki/ Shōnen_ Sekai_} accessed December 1 and 2, 2010.

"Shunrō Oshikawa," Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia, last modified on 17 November 2010 at 16:24; {_http: / / en. wikipedia. org/ wiki/ Shunrō_ Oshikawa_} accessed December 1 and 2, 2010.

"Comics World and the World of Comics: Towards Scholarship on a Global Scale," series: Global Manga Studies, Vol. 1., ed., Jaqueline Berndt, International Manga Research Center, Kyoto Seika University, 2006; {_http:/ / imrc. jp/ 2010/ 09/ 26/ 20100924Comics% 20Worlds% 20and% 20the% 20World% 20of% 20Comics. pdf_} accessed December 1 and 2, 2010.

"Writing the Love of Boys: Representations of Male-Male Desire in the Literature of Murayama Kaita and Edogawa Ranpo," Dissertation, Jeffrey M. Angles, MA, The Ohio State University, 2003; {_http:/ / etd. ohiolink. edu/ send- pdf. cgi/ Angles% 20Jeffrey. pdf? osu1071535574_} accessed December 1 and 2, 2010.

"Militarizing Japan: Patriotism, Profit, and Children's Print Media, 1894-1925," Owen Griffiths, Japan Focus, posted September 22, 2007; {_http:/ / www. japanfocus. org/ -Owen- Griffiths/ 2528_} accessed December 1 and 2, 2010.

"Nouvelle Manga Manifesto," trans., Olivier Petitpas, Hong Kong, June 20, 2002 & Ken Hollings, London, July 12, 2003; Frédéric Boilet, Tôkyô, August 12, 2001 {_http: / / www. boilet. net/ am/ nouvellemanga_ manifeste_ 1. html_} accessed December 1 and 2, 2010.

"Perez the Priest and his Comment on Tirant lo Blanch," Daniel Eisenberg, _MLN_, Vol. 88, No. 2, Hispanid Issue (Mar., 1973), pp. 321-330; JSTOR database, Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001; {_http:/ / users. ipfw. edu/ JEHLE/ deisenbe/ cervantes/ peroperezlow. pdf} _accessed December 1 and 2, 2010.


	7. Chapter 7

**December 15, 2010**  
It's always fun to write up chapters in this story. Well, actually the last chapter was more grueling than fun. But now the fun returns!

**Thanks for reading this!** The corresponding chapter of the public domain _Don Quixote_ translation that I'm using is at {_www. online-literature. com/ cervantes/ don_quixote/ 11/_} (cut and paste inside the {funky brackets}, and remove the spaces to get the correct web address).

* * *

**The Second Excursion Made By Dan  
Chapter 7  
**

Just when Graff, Altrelda and Brenda thought they were clear of getting caught destroying Dan's _manga_ collection, a shout startled the wits out of them. You see, Dan had groggily rolled out of his tent and was now bumbling around the tent camp, shouting crazy stuff, like, "The _Akatsuki_ [_Naruto_] are plotting to take over the world! Prepare to fight against the dawn of a new age of alien tyranny!"

Graff gladly put down the _manga_ he was perusing. He had feared that maybe he'd been too hasty in condemning all that remained of Dan's collection, so he had rescued and condemned a few more pieces. But now the sorting was over and a new crisis had arisen. Its name was Daniel.

Brenda stuck her head out of a tent and watched, wide-eyed, as Dan pointed an invisible ray gun at the trees. Graff swatted the invisible ray gun aside and took hold of Dan's shoulders. He flat out lied, saying, "You've hardly slept a wink. Aren't you the least bit sleepy?"

Altrelda gently led Dan back to the front of his tent. With a mothering voice, she soothed, "Here's a little bit of noodle soup to tide you over. But then you really must sleep, young man."

Dan took the not-very-warm bowl of noodles and a pair of wooden chopsticks from Altrelda. He sat on a stool outside his tent. Between mouthfuls, he made his case. "We can't let the dawn of the aliens' world domination plan take effect. Terra Firma would succumb to the enemy and be lost forever."

Graff signaled Altrelda to let him talk to Daniel alone. He settled down next to the teenage boy. "You do realize that you're in the infirmary, don't you?"

"Oh?"

"Yes. If you wish to defeat the enemies of Earth, then you must take care to rest. And who knows? Tomorrow will be a new day, with a fresh start. Perhaps you'll recover from your grave injuries by then."

Dan drained the bowl and laid it on the ground. "You've always been my most faithful trainer, haven't you?"

Graff looked off, dazed momentarily, before remarking, "Whatever you say, kid."

Dan closed his eyes. "Sometimes you train me in my sleep, you know."

Graff chuckled. "Night is the best time for training." He watched Dan shuffle into the tent and made sure that Dan did indeed lie down and close his eyes. "Sweet dreams."

Graff quietly closed the tent flaps, not bothering with the broken zipper. Altrelda had stood off to the side, listening to the whole conversation. She sighed deeply, sagging her shoulders as she drew near to Graff. He led her to a space between two trees. It was hardly private, but it at least afforded him enough privacy to hold Altrelda close to him.

She didn't cry. She simply breathed out a long, drawn out sigh. Then she stood and fixed her hair into a pony tail as she said, "He's eating real food this time. It's much better than the last time that he insisted on eating only his imaginary food."

Graff reached out to hold the side of Altrelda's face. "You're helping him. Thanks to your care, he just might be set free from his madness this time around."

Altrelda looked into Graff eyes. "I do hope so. I'm nearly going insane myself, out of worry."

"Now, now," Graff said, "you mustn't say such things. Come, let's finish what we've started." He gently drew Altrelda along by her arm, back to the mess of _manga_ littering their little area of the tent city.

Brenda had come out of the tent. She skipped around the huge metal barrel she'd rolled across the park. "Can we start the bonfire? Can we? Can we?"

Graff chuckled. "I suppose it will get dark soon enough."

"We get to be warm tonight!" Brenda shrieked with joy.

"But there's just one thing missing," Graff said. "Wait for me. I won't be long."

Brenda could barely manage to contain herself. She raced around the park, saying, "Hi," to even the homeless noobs, and carrying on about what a wonderful day this was. When she saw Graff returning, she rushed back to her tent site. He held a tattered cloth bag in his arms. The handles had broken off long ago.

"What is it? What is it? Oh, let me guess. No. Just tell me. I just gotta know!" She said, in one long, breathless utterance.

Altrelda came over and Graff winked. "Oh, just be patient, now. Let's get a little heat going," he teased.

When Brenda tried to peek into the bag, Graff put his arm out. "Uh, uh, uh!"

So Brenda gave up trying to figure out what was in the bag and instead helped to add a few books and magazines to the fire. The blaze was coming to life in the barrel.

Folks from other areas of the tent city wandered over. They were partly curious about what was being burned. But even more importantly, they wanted a bit of heat before the cold of the evening chilled their bones.

Graff finally brought the bag over and showed Brenda the contents. Graham crackers, chocolate bars and marshmallows.

"Which one are we allowed to have?" Brenda asked, confused.

Graff opened up the box of graham crackers. "All of them. They go together."

Brenda scratched her elbow. "We get all three things? At once?" Drool began to pool in her mouth.

Altrelda brought over a few sticks she had gathered. "You haven't even tasted how great they are when the marshmallows are toasted, Brenda, dear."

Brenda's eyes couldn't have been any wider as she watched Altrelda open up the bag of marshmallows and pop two on the end of stick. Then she tailed Altrelda to the burning barrel and observed the careful cook. When the marshmallows had a burnished bronze hue, like the last moments of the golden sunset, Graff handed her two Graham cracker squares and a chunk of a chocolate bar.

The white marshmallow insides oozed over the edges of the crackers. Inside the marshmallow sandwich the chocolate slightly shimmered from the heat that the fluffy clouds of confection still retained. And then Altrelda handed the delectable snack to Brenda.

"Careful. Don't burn your mouth," Graff cautioned.

Brenda inhaled. An infusion of sugary and chocolaty goodness entered her blood stream via her nostrils. Then she took a careful bite at the edge. "Hmmmmmmm!" she moaned, her mouth full of delish.

She took another bite. And another. "This is so good!" She ran around the fire, tripping over the _manga_ lying haphazardly on the ground, and licking her fingers.

Altrelda and Graff tossed their heads back laughing. Then Altrelda added some more _manga_ to the flames and started up another s'more. People in the tent city brought their own treats to heat over the fire. There were sweet potatoes, left over lunch box meals, and even dried meats enjoyed next to the flames.

The fire lasted quite long into the night, as more and more of Dan's collection was burned up. It got so dark that no one could really even see what was being offered to the fire gods. Surely there were some truly precious items that should never have been destroyed.

If the care that Dan had taken to preserve the historical items was any indication, there certainly would have been treasures, even fortunes, in that collection. But by morning the deed was done. Only smoking ashes remained.

After taking a short nap, Graff and Altrelda faced the new day, circles under their eyes, but relief on their faces. Brenda had slept early and woken up early, so she was eager to sort through Graff's tattered bag in search of any leftover chocolate and crackers that she could find.

"Brenda," Altrelda called, quietly.

Brenda skipped over to Altrelda and threw her arms around Altrelda's legs. The woman bent down to hug Brenda back. "Let's play a game, Brenda," she said. "Let's see if we can be so quiet today that Daniel doesn't wake up."

Brenda's eyes sparkled in delight. "Okay!" she whispered. She tip-toed back to the bag and searched for more breakfast.

It turned out that Dan could sleep a long time, when his stomach wasn't completely empty. As a matter of fact, he didn't wake up, other than to relieve himself in the morning. And he retreated straight back to his tent and stayed in there, snoring like an elephant.

Graff set about to concoct some sort of story to explain the disappearance of the _manga_. Meanwhile, Altrelda bartered for some tent nylon and expertly sewed a hidden compartment into the tent she slept in, to conceal the remaining _manga_ that had been spared execution.

By nightfall it had been agreed all around that the story would be that an alien absconded with Dan's collection. And then the merry crew settled down for a long night of peaceful sleep.

By morning, Dan woke refreshed. He yearned to read a good _manga_, and crawled out from under the blanket, rubbing his eyes. Seeing nothing in his tent, he rubbed his eyes some more, until purple and yellow spots bounced around his unseeing eyes.

He crawled out of his tent, and saw that indeed, he was in the tent where his _manga_ collection ought to have been. Altrelda was also waking up and setting about to find some breakfast for her foursome.

"Morning," Dan yawned.

"It is a fine morning!" Altrelda grinned.

"Hey, do you know where my _manga_ collection might be?" Dan asked.

Altrelda stopped and stood up. "As I've been told, your _manga_, or rather your nothing, has been carried away by a gigantic, vile insect."

Brenda crawled out of the tent. "It wasn't an insect, silly!" she said, scratching her chest. At was an alien from outer space who came on a flying saucer last night. He went into your tent for a brief moment. And then there was the roar and heat of a fire, but your tent didn't burn at all."

Dan nodded his head, following Brenda's story intently.

Brenda continued, "We woke up due to the smell of smoke, and we saw the alien leave your tent. And of course we checked and you were safely asleep inside. But we heard this alien say that he has a grudge against the boy who owned such a _manga_ collection. And then he said his name."

Both Dan and Altrelda leaned in closer to Brenda as she revealed: "He called himself, 'Sage Mantis.'"

Dan earnestly looked into Brenda's eyes. "You mean the Prayer, don't you?"

Altrelda busied herself with breakfast as she explained, "I don't know whether he said, 'Player' or 'Prayer,' but it definitely ended in, 'er.'"

"Yes. Yes, it does," Dan said. "He is my greatest foe. He knows that I am the alien hunter that will one day hunt him down and defeat him. So he causes me no end of trouble. But it is vanity on his part. Because in the end, I will prevail."

"Yeah, right," Brenda said, munching on a big rice ball that Altrelda gave her. "You know, if you just stayed out of his way, he wouldn't bother you. You do know that, don't you?"

"Oh, ho, ho, ho!" Dan laughed. "Oh, my Pork Chop! My dear Brenda!" he uttered between laughing gasps. "You have no need to fear for me. He can't touch this," he said, doing his MC Hammer dance.

To spare themselves from seeing Dan dance again, both Brenda and Altrelda shut up immediately. Graff had heard the whole encounter from inside his tent. So he played along.

Dan hung around the tent city for two full weeks. He enjoyed playing games with Brenda and ate a good bit more than usual, with Altrelda and Graff playing hunter and gatherer roles.

But he continued to insist that on Terra Firma the alien invasion had begun long, long ago. And he never stopped preaching that the time for an alien hunter to appear had come. Graff enjoyed these conversations, challenging Dan's beliefs and forcing him to defend them, all in a friendly manner, of course.

During the day, Dan roamed in the park freely. And at night he dutifully returned, appearing to be of sound mind. But he had a new-found friend who also frequented the park. Why, it was a veritable budding bromance!

One afternoon Dan went off to find his buddy, Kildare. "Yo, bro, I need a sidekick. You dig?" Dan said, slapping Kildare some skin.

Kildare responded with the secret handshake. "So?"

Dan wasn't easily deterred. "Dude, sidekicks get all kinds of kickbacks. So, come on and be a man. Belly up to the bar. Be mine. I mean, be my sidekick."

Kildare listened. "Okay. Sure."

Well, that was easier than anyone expected. Not the least of all, Dan.

Dan imagined up some cash for his upcoming journey – you see, he had listened to Round Man back at the maid café. And he told Kildare to get ready to run away from home, leaving his big jerk of a dad who did nothing but run a game consortium.

Dan was above imagining up anything for Kildare. So he told the poor sap to steal a backpack and whatever he needed for a life on the lam. And Kildare said he was bringing his three-wheeler along. Dan wasn't too happy about that. What if someone laughed at Dan riding around town, followed by some bloke on a tricycle? But Kildare was all he had, so that was that.

On the appointed night, after the entire city lay down to sleep, the two made their grand escape. Dan headed off toward Center Gai once more. Kildare lazily pedaled his three-wheeler, trailing Dan, and dreamed of being a sidekick.

After a long while of this, Kildare found his voice. "You ain't forgettin' about me bein' a sidekick, are you?"

Dan stopped on the road and let Kildare catch up. "No way would I forget something profound like that, man. Just you wait. The adventure will get going soon enough."

Kildare huffed and puffed, not accustomed to riding his trike across Tokyo. "If I'm a side kick, does that mean my old man, Joe Chairman, has to be your side kick, too?"

"Nah," Dan assured him. "Don't sweat the small stuff. Relax. Take a chill pill."

Kildare looked confused. "Are you channeling the eighties?"

"Am I?" Dan returned the question.

"Nah," Kildare lied. "But seriously, Mo Chairman would not a good sidekick make," he asserted.

"Forget him!" Dan said, losing his temper. Then he regained his composure and said, "This story is about you and me, buddy. You and me. And don't you forget that."

Kildare smiled the dreamy smile of one falling in platonic love. "I won't, Bro. I sure won't."


	8. Chapter 8

**December 22, 2010**  
For those interested, the windmill-powered street lights are described on the Panasonic website, under the global website page, and then under Japan. I based my description on model FY-17TWF2 (the ones without built-in cameras). I used Google Translate to read the website in English.

I began to use Sparknotes as a resource. It isn't much more helpful than simply reading the text. But it does cut through the verbosity of the translation I am using. It is "SparkNote on Don Quixote" by SparkNotes Editors, 2003; accessed December 20, 2010 { _http: / / www. sparknotes. com/ lit/ donquixote/ context. html_} (cut and paste inside the {funky brackets}, and remove the spaces to get the correct web address).

**Thanks for reading this!** The corresponding chapter of the public domain _Don Quixote_ translation that I'm using is at {_www. online-literature. com/ cervantes/ don_quixote/ 12/_}.

* * *

**The Fantastic Wind Turbine Misadventure and Other Winning Tales**  
Chapter 8

Sooner or later Dan and Kildare reached a major thoroughfare. And there did Dan see streetlights along that roadway which were the kind that are powered by Savonius 3-blade wind turbines.

"Hey, Kildare. We're in luck. There are no less than thirty evil aliens here. And I'm going to shorten the List today, terminating each and every one of 'em!"

"Ew! You're an alien killer?" Kildare asked. "That's the crazy stuff I was trying to leave behind with my dad's consortium."

"I prefer Alien Hunter," Dan said, self-righteously. "But I have no desire to play your father's games. Truth be told, my only interest is in ridding the earth of malevolent alien spawn. I can feel their evil presence. Can you?"

Kildare looked around. Dan pointed at the lights lining the road. "Look how tall they stand, arrogant, refusing to take off their hats in my presence."

Now Kildare looked at Dan, not the street. "Are you feeling okay, dude? Or are you just pretending that you've never seen any wind-powered street lamps?"

"Some sidekick you are," grumped Dan. "You want to spoil all the fun with your literal interpretations? Well, be in awe of my awesomeness. I shall go forth and conquer. Now where's my List?" Dan pulled out his cell phone and studiously researched the alien in question.

Dan then pedaled over to one of the street lights. Kildare yawned and slumped over the handle bars of his transportation. And the wind remembered that it had a role to play, too. So a light breeze blew down the street and the curvy windmills inside the street light poles began to turn.

Dan got off his bike and walked up to one of the columns supporting the lights. "I should have known. A swirlish," he muttered, consulting his List. "And you are Whirl Thirteen. A particularly devilish swirlish, you are."

The light on the lamp flickered, powered by the swirlish's nervous energy. Dan's compassionate side came through. "Don't worry, my friend. I don't intend to kill you. I just need to make it look like you've been exterminated in the Chairman's game consortium. And I'm not sure I fully trust our sidekick yet. So what do you say?"

The swirlish spun around and around on the turbine. "I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Dan said. He drew in a deep breath that stopped the wind on the street. Each street light turbine was stilled. Thirty swirlishes departed their hiding places in the turbines and took residence inside Dan. An unfortunate side effect of this rescue was a temporary case of flatulence borne by Dan.

And it was just then that Dan let loose a deafening toot and thus wilted a nearby petunia. Kildare woke up and covered his nose. He shouted over to Dan, "I thought you'd try to break the windmills, not break wind!"

Dan belched, then sucked in his breath quickly before he answered, "As my sidekick, I'd hoped you might be willing to put up with frequent flatulation."

"That's a back formation ," Kildare said, trying to hold his breath.

"I thought it was digestive," Dan admitted, releasing gas once again.

Kildare shook his head. "If I knew you had flagellation in mind, I would have gladly used your bike chain on myself."

Dan pompously mounted his Ducati, which looked suspiciously like a cheap bicycle. "We're talking flatulence, here, Kildare. Stay with the program."

"What about the evil presence of alien scum program?" Kildare asked.

"We need not fear evil aliens here. 'Tis true, I thought the Prayer might be at work. But I discovered that those were nothing other than ordinary street lights. It is just as you have said." And Dan let a tiny trumpet of air escape his other end.

Kildare made an effort to stay up wind of Dan as they trekked toward Shibuya Station. As they went along, Dan assured Kildare that many an adventure would be found at that busy subway station.

At this point, Dan noticed the depth of Kildare's olfactory discomfort. "I have to wonder. I may be the first hero to suffer a bout of indigestion. But I must not complain of my discomfort. That would be unheroic."

"I'm not above complaining," Kildare grumbled.

"Feel free," Dan said, trying to hold back but only resulting in a silent but deadly.

Kildare fell off his trike, "I'm dying here!"

Dan was oblivious. "Good. Very good. I have to go in Shibuya Station. Alone. Do you mind waiting out here with our wheels?"

"Happy to," Kildare replied, a bit too eagerly. He watched Dan enter the space ship … Shibuya station, Kildare corrected himself. Then he pulled some dried cuttlefish strips out of his backpack and munched away.

Meanwhile, Dan entered the station and found a place to relieve himself of the swirlishes. He was glad to be done with that, now that the game consortium's targets were far from Terra Firma.

When Dan returned, Kildare was happy to discover the flatulence was gone. They found a _manga _café where Kildare easily fell asleep, while Dan pined away for Dana all night.

In the morning, two mangaphiles entered the café. Dan poked Kildare awake. "Look. Rogue aliens playing your dad's hide and kill game."

Kildare rubbed his eyes. "They look like regular punks to me."

"But you haven't observed carefully, Kildare. Don't you see the delightful shape of the female outside? Obviously she is their messenger and will be sent off at once to report their victory."

"I think she's just waiting for someone."

"Of course she's waiting for someone, Kildare. And there's one more pressing matter that we must discuss."

Kildare sipped tea. "What's that?"

"Only I must hunt aliens. You must never even lift a finger in the fight. Are we agreed?"

"Happily."

Dan smiled at Kildare and approached the two new guys. "So, are ya'll looking for the devilish swirlish, too?"

The two guys looked at each other, a bit uneasy.

"Oh, come on!" Dan said impatiently. "Don't pretend that you are ignorant. Although, that is what you are. For if you had paid any attention, you would have noticed that the very swirlish you are seeking was hidden inside your watch all along!"

The one kid wearing a watch quickly looked at it. The other guy muttered, "You dim wit. Hand it over."

"Not so fast," Dan interrupted. He attacked the boy wearing the watch, wrestling the watch-bearing arm to the ground. The other punk was stunned by Dan's swiftness and ran out of the shop, crying for his mommy.

Kildare didn't want to be left out of the action, so he quickly unbuckled the watch and appropriated it for himself. And he also was curious to see what a swirlish actually looked like. He really couldn't see anything unusual about the watch, but he put it on his own wrist anyway.

Dan gave this parting word as he exited the café: "I'll dispatch your messenger to notify of Whirl Thirteen's demise."

Kildare watched through a window as Dan approached the woman outside the café. "My darling, you look ravishing."

She turned to look up at him, just as her friend, who she had been waiting for, approached as well. Dan posed provocatively, leaning on the wall of the café, staring into the waiting woman's eyes. "I hope you will be so kind as to forward a message of victory to the Chairman, on my behalf." He bent forward and kissed her hand, letting his fingers linger on hers.

"Buzz off," her friend interrupted.

Dan smiled at the girl who recently arrived. "I was hoping for an audience. Proof for the Chairman, whom we all love and adore."

The girl blushed slightly. But Dan graciously turned away. "Kildare, bring the swirlish."

Kildare stumbled past the punk in the café and held out his watch-bearing arm to Dan. With sleight of hand, Dan made a whirlwind appear above the watch face and then clamped it between his open palms. For theatrical effect, he squished the nonexistent bug between his hands and then wiped them on the front of Kildare's shirt. Kildare stared in horror at Dan, until he saw the secret wink that assured him: no aliens were harmed in the making of this chapter.

And Dan opened his mouth to send the two messengers on their way to the Chairman. But Dan's actual words were never recorded. Blame it on the original author of this account who was too lazy to write it down. I mean, what decent writer would actually leave a scene hanging right at its climax without providing a decent ending? But I suppose we could discover the resolution of this adventure if we ever get far enough along to read the Second Part. Don't hold your breath. Ten years is a long time to wait.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for reading this!** The corresponding chapter of the public domain _Don Quixote_ translation that I'm using is at {_www. online-literature. com/ cervantes/ don_quixote/ 13/_} (cut and paste inside the {funky brackets}, and remove the spaces to get the correct web address).

* * *

**The Parting Scene between Dan and the Woman outside the **_**Manga**_** Café**  
Chapter 9

We ended the last chapter with a minor cliffy. Perhaps you remember that Dan had rescued the swirlishes and now planned a ruse to make the Chairman of the Game Consortium (that's Kildare's dad) believe that Whirl Thirteen had been terminated.

Lucky for you, we don't have to wait ten years for the next chapter! But if you recall, my original source of this story terminated the scene abruptly.

This completely irked me. I was enjoying this brief little tale. To have it be cut off so suddenly - - believe me when I tell you that I was beyond disappointed. I thought that maybe someone would have adopted the story rather than let it languish. As a matter of fact, I realized that such a great story couldn't have been just dropped.

That just drove me crazy, because I just wanted to find out the rest of the story! I wasn't in the mood for a One Shot any longer. Then I had the thought that my original source must be missing some really important parts of Dan's story. What if there was an interesting romantic subplot that I was missing out on completely? Even without romance, Dan is, _liek_, by far the most astounding and complex character ever. That's my opinion_, enyway_.

Last night, I thought about it all night. But I must have slept some time, because I had this crazy dream. I was taking this trip for the holidays and I just kept on driving, and driving, and I never got anywhere. Eventually I realized that I was in Toledo, Ohio, but I was trying to get to Montreal. After driving in circles around the city, I decided to check in to a hotel. It was a weird dream, I know. And then I couldn't get any sleep - - yes, this was part of my dream! So in my dream I went down to the business office part of the hotel and surfed the internet. In my sleep! *LOL* Anyhoo, I dreamt that I found a _manga_ version of Dan's story on deviantART.

That's when I woke up. I really woke up, not just in my dream. And I got online for real. I don't know why, but I searched "Dana and Dan Q" on deviantART. I was elated when I found a Dan Q _manga_ online! My only disappointment was that it was written in Japanese, which I don't read. Sure, I do read some Chinese characters – _kanji_ or 汉字, which I guess would be 漢字 in Japanese. But I Googled up an app that can translate even words inside pictures. I don't know if it's a beta or what, but it's totally awesome.

Well, enough of my going on and on about this. The _manga_ scans were totally awesome. I found the sketch of the woman waiting outside the café, and another of Dan's provocative pose … he can be really good looking when he's drawn right! Well, the girl who met with the woman outside the café was named Sachiko. And in the background was a sketch of Rok, the bicycle-Ducati hybrid. It was just as I'd imagined it. It was sort of this run down bike but it was morphing into a sleek road rage Streetfighter. Amazing! And the drawing of Kildare in the _manga_ looked almost like a twin of Dan. Sometimes the _manga_ called Kildare "Dildare." I figured it was a tolerable discrepancy. Besides, my philosophy is that as long as a story gets things right, it's a good story.

As for cultural imperialism, I don't have anything that I could say about it. Besides, I'm a US citizen who was born in Japan on an airbase when the United States occupied Japan. So I'm not going to say anything about the _manga_ being written in Japanese. Although, if I tried to be funny, I suppose I might be able to write something simultaneously insulting and witty. But no, I digress.

Enough with the author note. Let's get back to the scene from last chapter, which I can write now that I've read the Dan Q _manga_ …

Before Dan could get a word out, Sachiko made pouty lips and said, "Mister tough guy. Beats up one alien and thinks he's a champion."

All that did was piss Dan off. He stood nose to nose with Sashiko and raised his voice. "I was not talking to you."

Sashiko was speechless. So the woman stepped forward. She took Dan aside and spoke softly in his ear. In this way they quickly came to an agreement. The woman would report that she had killed Whirl Thirteen and claim the prize from the Chairman. It was no coincidence that she had the ability to alter the memories of any witnesses so that they would corroborate with her story.

Before the woman could leave with the silent Sashiko, Dan kissed her cheek and whispered, "Send my regards to Dana."


	10. Chapter 10

**March 3, 2011  
Thanks for reading this!** The corresponding chapter of the public domain _Don Quixote_ translation that I'm using is at {_www. online-literature. com/ cervantes/ don_quixote/ 14/_} (cut and paste inside the {funky brackets}, and remove the spaces to get the correct web address).

**

* * *

Chillin' with Dan and Kildare **

Kildare gingerly stepped around the punks from whom he had pilfered the wristwatch. He set his heart and mind upon kickbacks – the kind that would be rewarded to him for being Dan's sidekick. These thoughts occupied him as he endured watching Dan's rather flirtatious goings-on.

After the gratuitous interaction between Dan and the woman was concluded, Kildare hustled over to upright Dan's toppled bike, Roc. Then he held up a high-five hand and Dan obliged.

"So, Dan," Kildare purred, "since you finished off the business with Dad's swirlish kill-o-rama, how 'bout those kickbacks?"

Dan picked something out of his teeth with his pinky fingernail. "Kildare, Kildare, Kildare," he began at last, "This kind of quest isn't a kickback kind of thing. It's an encounter kind of thing. The only rewards we'll get from a quest like this is a broken heart or a lost watch." Dan eyed the contraband property that Kildare had seized. Kildare lowered his head. He waited for Dan to go on but an awkward silence yawned between them. When Kildare could no longer stand the interminable nothingness, he raised his eyes into Dan's steely gaze, which latched on to him magnetically. "You'll see, Kildare. We'll eventually have an encounter that earns you kickbacks or something better."

Kildare pushed Dan's shoulder. Dan regained his balance and shoved Kildare. Back and forth the shoves were traded, getting rougher yet friendlier as they progressed. Just as quickly as the roughhousing had started, Dan turned to Rok and rode away. Kildare totted to his trike to ride after Dan, but he had a hard time keeping up.

Huffing and puffing, Kildare finally admitted with a hoarse shout, "I can't keep up!" Dan slowed down enough for Kildare to trail behind him. Wheezing, Kildare warned, "When Dad finds out we messed with his Consortium, we'll be toast."

Dan rode along, head high in the air. He took in a deep breath of city air and exhaled with an almost audible "ahhhhhhh." Then he said, "Your dad loves alien killers. Since when does he care how the killing game is played? A kill is a kill, fair and square. Besides, the lovely lady we just left back at the café is your dad's star performer. We're covered."

"I don't know much about my dad's star performers," Kildare said with a forlorn tone of voice.

Dan stopped and straddled his bike, waiting for Kildare to pull up along side of him. "If you did know her, you'd realize that there's nothing to worry about. But I could certainly arrange for you to know certain star performers, if you know my meaning."

Kildare's face briefly color coordinated with the scarlet-hued sun. Dan quickly changed the subject, out of the kindness of his heart. "I'm the best damn alien hunter you'll ever meet. I have all the right moves. Wouldn't you agree?"

Kildare coughed. "Hunter? I thought you were an alien killer."

"Six of one, half a dozen of the other," Dan declared.

"I'm thinkin' you need your head checked," Kildare muttered. "There's a big difference between hunter and killer."

"My head? Fixed?" Dan laughed. "Even if that were the case, or even if my whole body were torn into bits and the whole of it needed to be fixed, I'd just use a badass longcoat like Jack Frost."

"Never heard of him. Besides, what's so badass about a long coat?"

"I ought to qualify that _Jack Frost _is technically _manhwa_, not _manga_. But on to your question. Jack's coat is affectionately known as the Devil Thread. It will regenerate the wearer and even sew itself up if it ever becomes torn. While perpetually tattered in appearance, the coat itself has a sentient presence which can help to defeat an enemy."

"Woah," Kildare whispered, his eyes trained on Dan's stoic face.

"When I battle with a formidable alien, who knows if I will be cut right down the middle, left and right sides split in two like a pineapple standing on a chopping block. Don't panic. Just thread my right arm through the right sleeve and my left arm through the left sleeve of the coat. Tah daaah! I'll be in one piece again"

Kildare straightened his spine. "Hey, I'd barter for that in place of any and all kickbacks. I bet I could get 20,000 yen or more for a coat like that. But can they even be made without selling our souls to the devil?"

Dan grinned. "It would be a snap to make 60 coats for less than 30,000 yen."

Kildare's eyes glassed over. "Must ... make ... long ... coats ... pause for effect ... nao!"

"Sure thing, Kildare. I just want you to know that the Devil Thread is nothing compared what else I'm gonna teach you. But right now I sure could use some plain old brain food. I've got a low-blood-sugar headache the size of Jupiter."

Kildare searched in his pack. He handed Dan a pack of electrolyte sports goo in a foil packet. Just as Dan squeezed the last remaining blobs of bright blue gel into his mouth, he felt for his hat. Finding that he was not wearing it, he jumped off his bike. Turning about, he grumbled, "My cap! My Chunichi Dragons baseball cap!"

Kildare squinted his eyes, looking just to the left of Dan's head. Then he looked in Dan's eyes and said, "I don't think you wore it …"

Dan interrupted, "All the good times I've had with that hat. Learning new alien hunter skills. Traveling through the space-time continuum. Eating ice cream … just like Naruto and Jiraiya." Dan heaved a sigh. "I wanted to wear that hat when I did more than just screw up. I wanted the hat to be with me when I defeated The Prayer."

Kildare shoved his hands in his pockets. "The hat will always be with you, Dan." He tried his best not to sound like a sappy character in a _manga_.

Dan lifted his head and looked at Kildare. "I suppose you are right. But I commit my new mission to stealing a better hat from an unsuspecting alien. I liked the way that Kogarashi [in _Kamen No_ _Maid Guy_] stole the panties right off all of the girls at his school and no one noticed."

Kildare folded his hands over the zipper of his jeans and looked at a fascinating splotch of white paint splattered on the dusty gray wall of a building. "What happens if we don't meet any aliens with hats?"

"No aliens? Kildare, it won't be two hours before we see on this street more pirates than searched for Gold Roger's _One Piece_."

"First aliens, now pirates," Kildare muttered. He grimaced and dug the tip of his canvas shoe into a crack in the pavement. "It sure is taking a long time to get my kickbacks."

Dan blew the long bangs out of his face. "I told you to stop worrying about that. Look, if we don't find suitable kickbacks for you, we could always give you Tokyo Tower, or Tokyo Sky Tree, for that matter. It will be the landmark of your life, suiting you like your CDG2 MAN _Eau de Toilette_. Just think … you'll never have to go to see anyone because everyone will be coming to see you!" Dan flashed a reassuring grin back at Kildare, who responded by slumping his shoulders forward and refusing to look up.

"Maybe we can find another café. I'm kinda hungry even though I have some indigestion lingering on from this afternoon."

Kildare took off his backpack. "I have some _shōchū_ and _onigiri _in here. But you wouldn't like it, anyway."

"How would you know what I like? I have trained myself to be an elite alien hunter. I could go without food or drink for a month. It is the glory of the alien hunter to do without. I am happy with anything that happens to come my way by luck or diligence alike. As such, I am perfectly suited to the aperitif of vagrants and a simple _hors d'oeuvre _like rice with seaweed wrap or even crispy rice crackers. So you have no need to concern yourself with my likes and dislikes, Kildare."

"Oh," Kildare shrugged. "Okay. I'll keep cheap wine and rice crackers in my pack for you. For myself, I prefer DoubleShots and _an pan_ – the kind with red bean paste filling, not useless hamburger buns."

Dan stared ahead. "Kid … can I call you that? It rolls off my tongue more easily than 'Kildare.'"

"Sure."

Still staring ahead, Dan continued, "Okay, Kid. I'm not saying that I will only eat like a vagrant. I'm just saying that such discipline of doing without is a necessity in my line of work. I must know how to make a full meal out of discarded food that others would not touch."

Kildare nodded. "I suppose it's a good skill. No one can predict when it might come in handy." He pulled a bottle of _shōchū_ out of his pack, took a swig, and handed it to Dan.

They relieved some of the grumbling in their stomachs and then rode on. Kildare had hoped to find a youth hostel but Dan insisted on sleeping on park benches like the other men in the nearest park.

They settled onto two side-by-side benches, laying head to head. Kildare shivered in the cool air. Dan sighed, "This magnificent universe is my home. Each star above connects me to my destiny. And I will shine on, a fearless hunter and doer of good."


	11. Chapter 11

**March 14, 2011**

_**I send my heartfelt condolences to those who are suffering at this moment due to injury, hunger and loss of loved ones, their homes and even their cities. The content was written before the events of the deadly earthquake, tsunami and fears of damage to the cooling systems at nuclear power plants. **_

_**I did try to research homelessness in Japan while writing this, and of course I only use the most reliable research resource, *cough* Google. But a new level of homelessness will exist for a long, long time on Honshu. **_

**Thanks for reading this!** The corresponding chapter of the public domain _Don Quixote_ translation that I'm using is at {_www. online-literature. com/ cervantes/ don_quixote/ 15/_} (cut and paste inside the {funky brackets}, and remove the spaces to get the correct web address).

**Dan Hangs Out With the Vagrants**

While Kildare lay on the park bench feeling miserable, Dan beamed up at the magnificent starry sky, or what he could see of it through the city's light pollution. An old man with half-centimeter-long facial stubble hobbled over to the bench and nudged Dan. "Come," he wheezed from a mouth full rot. Kildare stood up first, and then Dan rolled onto his feet and they followed the shuffling gait of the old man to a group of homeless men squatting in the light of one of the park's lamps. To the side, smoke and waves of heat were flowing from red embers glowing inside metal ring as wide as a manhole cover.

As they walked, Dan could smell various foods and his stomach grumbled. The men sat encircling an orange plastic tarp spread with piles of smashed and misshapen food. A tall man welcomed Dan and Kildare. "Share and share alike! Welcome to our feast."

Dan made a meager attempt at a bow and Kildare imitated him. Unlike Dan, Kildare was reluctant to squeeze into the crowd surrounding the orange plastic. Dan kneeled next to the tarp, swallowing to prevent copious saliva from drooling out of his mouth.

A wrinkly-faced man said in a squeaky voice, "Our benefactor brings us the nightly leftovers from his busboy job." He nodded toward a middle-aged man who nodded humbly and then offered wooden chopsticks in paper slips to Dan and Kildare.

Dan eagerly took the chopsticks out of the paper holder, carefully flattened the slip and set it next to him, and then surveyed the feast. A pile of _yuba_ in brown sauce had withstood its transport well, as had bits of octopus. A clump of soggy tempura was flattened and much of the batter had fallen off. What looked like a lumpy pile of rice with seaweed and other toppings was actually a mound of smashed sushi rolls. Another mound was a mishmash of eggplant pickles, _daikon_ half-moons and burdock root spears.

Several of the older men were chewing on skewers of fried vegetables and seafood. They glanced curiously at Kildare standing aloof but said nothing. Dan turned to Kildare. "Alien hunters are greatly honored by the fine citizens of Tokyo. Please join me as an equal, Kid. Partake of the delectable offerings so graciously provided by these generous civilians. If we had bowls, I would insist that you eat out of mine so that we would be like brothers. For alien hunting is like brotherhood."

Kildare nodded and hastily spoke to Dan. "Thanks, but I can eat just fine from this distance. I dare not join the emperors of this park and pretend that I am their equal. I'd rather stick to my plain _onigiri_ than eat the dumpster-dived remains of some theme park restaurant. Goodness knows, perhaps a child drooled over this food or kitchen workers coughed and sneezed over the trash bins. Of course I am honored by your brotherly kindness. Yet I dare not eat from this hodgepodge of castaway buffet remains."

Dan looked at Kildare sternly. "Sit down and do not insult our hosts again." He pulled Kildare beside him and pressed him to his knees.

The vagrants had been staring at them but looked away as soon as Dan looked up. The middle-aged man produced a sack that clinked as he lifted it. He passed it around, and each man took a can of "one cup sake". Next the benefactor set a metal sheet set across half of the fire pit. Then he dumped out a paper bag. Swarthy brown chestnuts in their hard shells clattered onto the metal. As the man poked and prodded the chestnuts, the shells crackled and the aroma hissed into the air.

Seeing that the meal was coming to an end, Dan ate his fill. Then he carefully put his disposable chopsticks back into their paper sleeve. He passed on a second "one cup sake" but accepted a fistful of freshly toasted chestnuts, their shells cracked open.

Dan mused over the nuts and then made of show of preparing a great speech by holding one chestnut between his fingers to admire it. What follows is a close rendition of his words.

"A long, long time ago, the ancients created their fine works of pottery. In that Jomon era of rope-imprinted clay, no one knew that such a cord could become a noose or a snare. In those good old days the men just sat around drinking fermented grains. They were safe from all ills and made their women go out a gather the food. Ah, the days when men hardly had to lift their fingers except in the rare case of hunting and perhaps fishing. The sea bream sank to the bottom of the shallow waters and swallowed whatever they swam across without discrimination. The Japanese cedar was a magnificent, wild fauna in the height of his youth. In those days young and old alike gazed upon the scantily clad girl who was not yet aware of the blossoming twin rose buds that teased behind her frocks. The lasses had the good sense to sashay while they walked and no one called a man a lecher for gazing upon pubescent females. Though a man's pant-tent was as tall as Mount Fuji, no one would accuse him of improper thoughts. The mating call of the boar was music to the ears. Curious youth imitated nature, breeding an unending source of beauties whose only desire was that they would be objects of men's lust. No crazy ideas of liberation or equality existed then. A girl wanted to gather food until her back broke. If it was not the season for gathering food, she wanted to please a man on the deer-skin covered floor of a primitive hut. Men had absolute power, and it was a fine time in history. Only when women began to think for themselves did troubling times come upon us. It is a carefully guarded secret that all of men's trouble with women is actually caused by aliens. These seditious extraterrestrials turned the minds of real women away from the simple life of serving men. And I am dedicated to hunting such evil aliens, gentlemen. I am rightfully due the hospitality that you have shown, and yet I am impressed that you have offered it without knowing who I am. So I give you my sincere thanks for tonight's feast."

Dan finally stopped blathering. The vagrants were befuddled by his crazy talk, but they had all heard the likes of Dan's insanity from other homeless schmucks. Kildare grabbed a third "one cup sake" and imbibed without comment. He did munch on many chestnuts to make up for his lack of tasting the other food.

The benefactor announced, "Since we have a loquacious guest in our midst, it is only fair that we reward his words with some talent of our own. So I invite you to relax and enjoy the music."

One of the oldest men pulled out wooden flute and began to play an enchanting melody. The benefactor turned to the darkness and urged, "Do not be shy, Yoshi. Come out and sing for us." From the shadows a delicate, lanky young man emerged. His silky hair brushed against his high, thin cheeks when he gave friendly bows to his elders and gave a respectful bow to Dan and Kildare before he sat among them.

YOSHI'S SONG

_Does Iori like Ichitaka?_  
_Read the manga I''s and see._  
_Could she secretly want to know him?_  
_The boy dreams his fantasy._

_What if Iori lusted after him?_  
_Imagine the roles in reverse._  
_She wanted to feel his hard little brother_  
_And she did not think it perverse._

_She wanted to gaze at his muscles_  
_And run her fingers through his hair_  
_She dreamed of being on top of him,_  
_Gliding against his sweat in cool night air._

_A girl sending secret looks_  
_But getting nothing in return._  
_The boy obsessed with only himself._  
_When will he ever learn?_

When Yoshi stopped singing Dan leaned forward and begged him to sing more. "But there are no other words to the song," the slender man protested.

Kildare stood and wobbled a bit. "Suits me jusht fine," he slurred. "I'm going to cozy up on zhat park bench now."

Dan sniffed. "Maybe if you hadn't had that last sake you would be more eager to appreciate the fine music played for us tonight."

"At least I'm eager for something," Kildare muttered as he staggered into the darker area.

Dan shouted after him, "Fine, then. Go off and sleep. I will take the higher road of watching and waiting. Besides, my ear is itching for more music."

By now Yoshi had faded into the shadows again. Seeing Dan's disappointment, one of the men passed him an MP3 player and ear buds. "This'll keep your mind occupied," the man promised. So Dan listened to a Shonen Knife playlist and his desire for more music was indeed sated.


End file.
